TLC
by Shadowheart17
Summary: He'd never admit it, but he almost enjoyed "mothering" Chris. He'd also never admit that he just wanted them to stay home together tomorrow and there really wasn't any reason Chris couldn't go back to work. He just wanted to spend the day with his lover.


There would always be some things Chris would never tell Albert, for fear of being strangled to death. For instance, every once in a while, Chris would wait until the blond fell asleep before he would lightly tickle his arms, neck and cheeks. Albert would start to twitch and shift around a little, but he would never wake up. That is, until Chris simply couldn't keep his sniggering to himself and Albert woke up, demanding to know why Chris was making so much noise when he _really should be sleeping._ The brunette would smile, wrap his arms around Albert and snuggle close, barely holding back the _you're so adorable_ that sat on the tip of his tongue.

In hindsight, all the things Chris kept secret were things he did behind Albert's back. Everything except for one little detail. The one thing that made Chris' heart ache and make him feel so young and insignificant but whole and completely safe all at the same time.

And Albert could do it effortlessly at the drop of a hat.

On an early November day, the two were getting ready for work and Albert noticed Chris was being rather sluggish. Strange, considering this was the man that jogged two miles every morning (weather permitting) at an ungodly hour and was back and showered before the blond woke up. Sensing he was being watched, Chris turned his head and blinked owlishly. He looked flushed and almost feverish.

"Are you okay, dear heart?" He asked quietly, dropping his tie and pressing delicate fingers to his warm forehead. Chris ducked away, turning back to the mirror to fix a stray hair.

"Yeah, totally fine," he mumbled thickly, sounding very stuffed up. Albert withdrew his hand and gave a very disbelieving look to the mirror. Chris chose to ignore him and finish getting ready, pretending that every noise or movement didn't jar his nerves and make him queasy.

"Okay, now tell me something that isn't an obvious lie," Albert muttered, keeping one eye on Chris as he re-tried to put on his tie. Chris threw him a dirty look and shuffled out of the bedroom, snatching his keys from the dresser as he went. Rolling his eyes, Albert finished getting dressed, did a once-over in the bathroom mirror and followed him out, seeing no point in waiting around for the next ten minutes before he actually had to leave. Strange- he was early for once.

Chris was already out the door by the time the blond made it to the kitchen. His icy blue eyes were drawn to the half-eaten English muffin that sat on the counter, glazed over thickly with peanut butter. His brows furrowed in concern; after all, Chris would _never _leave one of his favorite breakfast foods half way through. He must be feeling downright terrible.

On his way out the door, Albert pondered stopping by the police station and dragging Chris home, but the thought of possibly making a scene deterred him and he promptly shoved the thought to the back of his mind and focused on driving. It was grey and gloomy that morning, typical for early November. He wouldn't be surprised if it started to pour, but feverishly hoped it wouldn't when he remembered Chris had intended on drilling the team today- out on the field.

A sigh and one fleeting thought prevailed-_Will he ever learn?_

* * *

><p>To put it lightly, Chris' day was terrible. He woke up feeling like a thousand needles were stabbing his shoulders, neck and back, digging deeper with every movement. His sinuses were completely backed up and he felt like he was on fire and underwater at the same time. His vision and hearing was greatly handicapped; he saw everything in flashes and barely heard anything without straining. To make matters worse, he had worried Albert.<p>

The blond would never admit it, but Chris knew anyways.

The brunette attempted to make himself some breakfast, but every bite and the effort of swallowing made him feel even worse, so he stopped half way through and left it on the counter. He didn't even think about grabbing some aspirin on his way out and most _definitely _didn't consider staying home. He was a man and he'd punch this cold, or whatever it was he had, in the face.

Much to his dismay, it was cold and very much overcast that morning, promises of rain in the distance. _Well, so much for running drills_ he thought grumpily, hopping into his truck with unusual amounts of difficulty. It started up just fine and everything was starting to look up as he pulled out of the garage, until he flicked the switch for his heater and got no response.

Great. Just great.

The whole way to work, Chris' body switched between being freezing cold and way overheated. His eyes streamed relentlessly, blurring his vision to the point where he almost couldn't see. But for once, luck was on his side and he made it to work safely. He even got the good parking spot. _Take that Forest_ he thought, silently mocking his long-time friend and rival, Forest Speyer of the Bravo Team.

The rest of the morning went fairly smoothly, except for the fact that the S.T.A.R.S office was a million and a half degrees and Chris was melting all over his desk. Several times, his subordinates asked if he was okay, to which he'd wave them off and mutter "I'm fine." This went on until a little after 12, when Forest himself sauntered into the room and challenged Chris to yet another one of their famous shooting range competitions.

Naturally, Chris couldn't refuse.

He played up his confidence the whole way there as the rest of the Alpha and Bravo team trailed behind them, secretly placing bets between each other. As it stood, Chris was in the lead by 12 rounds and there was _no way_ Forest could catch up, according to the Captain himself. But as they geared up and took their positions at opposite ends of the shooting range, Chris began to feel a little nervous.

His whole body ached fiercely and his brain seemed to shut down, along with the rest of him. Still, he would not let anything deter him. As the bell rang out, he raised the Beretta and gazed down the sight, disheartened to find himself shaking uncontrollably. His shoulders and back screamed at him to stop, it hurt so bad, but his pride (and winning streak) was on the line- no way he'd let a little sickness stop him.

Taking a deep breath, Chris steadied himself enough to take a shot. It seemed to shatter his eardrums and throw him back several feet. He dropped the gun and clutched his arms, curling in on himself. His face was frozen in a horrible look of agony and his whole body tensed up. Pain raced up and down his back, burning white hot just under his skin.

Needless to say, Forest won.

Jill and Barry helped Chris back up to the S.T.A.R.S office, where the brunette collapsed on his desk and didn't move for several long minutes. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going home; the problem was how he was going to get there. He absolutely would not bother Jill or Barry or anyone else to take him home, but he didn't think he was fit enough to drive.

Asking Albert was out of the question.

Dreading the trip home, he bid farewell to the team and shambled out of the office, down the building and out to his truck. His heart, body and brain were on fire by the time he managed to drag himself into the vehicle and start it up. But he told himself to just gnash his teeth and bear it.

And that's exactly what he did.

* * *

><p>It started to rain just as he left the police station, adding insult to injury. Cursing the world, Chris made straight for home, praying with all his might that he would make it there.<p>

Albert had a keen sense of knowing when there was something very wrong with Christopher. He didn't even need to _see _him to know that, as he shuffled through the door, his condition had gotten severely worse. Setting down his paperwork, the blond went into the kitchen and found the brunette leaning over the sink, his stomach heaving as it tried to get rid of whatever he had eaten that day. Consequently, that was next to nothing, but that didn't make the process any less painful. Chris gagged and shook his head, eyes streaming and his fingers clenched tight on the edge of the sink.

Albert strode over at once and placed his hands lightly on Chris' shoulders, waiting until his spasms subsided before he gently led the quivering man to the couch where he had prepared a makeshift bed. Chris lied down and curled up, shivering violently. Albert fetched a light blanket and draped it over his lover, reluctant to make him warmer than he already was. What he needed was water, some aspirin and an easy meal to keep down.

Trying to keep his alarm to himself, he hurried to the kitchen and poured a glass of icy water, ran to the bathroom for the aspirin and considered what kind of soup to prepare. When he returned, he could have sworn Chris looked paler than he had before (which was saying something). Sweat beaded his forehead and neck and he was breathing heavily. With upmost care, Albert cradled the brunette's head in his hands and urged him awake. Delicate eyelids fluttered open to reveal glazed eyes.

"You need to take this, dear heart, and then you can go back to sleep," he promised gently, taking the aspirin in his hand. Chris nodded, though he didn't look like he understood at all. But it was easy enough- Albert dropped the pills in his mouth and Chris drank the water himself. It seemed to help a little, for his shivering subsided for the time being and he feel into a slightly easier sleep. Satisfied with this, Albert decided on his next course of action- dinner.

Though not a chef by trade, he was a very good cook and he knew exactly what he was going to make- the same chicken noodle soup his mother often made when he was sick. As he prepared the ingredients, he checked on Chris as frequently as he could. Worry pricked at Albert like a stubborn thorn and there was nothing he could do about it. He cared for Chris far too much to not be worried. Even if he didn't show it, he was fiercely protective of his lover and he'd do anything to make him feel better.

A little less than an hour later, the soup was brewing on the stove and Albert was sitting in a chair perched next to Chris, running his fingers softy through his hair with one hand and pressing a cool cloth to his face with the other. For the most part, he seemed to be doing better. Color had started to return to his cheeks, his shivering had stopped for good and his fever had gone down slightly. Good progress considering it was still in the early afternoon.

It wasn't until the early evening when Chris woke up, looking weak but much, much better. Albert was still sitting faithfully in his chair, looking sleepy but determined to stay awake for Chris. Upon seeing the brunette's awakening however, he snapped right up and cradled Chris' face in his hands. The brunette smiled faintly and yawned deeply, his whole body filling up slowly and deflating quickly with the effort of it.

"You look like you were expecting me to die," Chris informed Albert matter-of-factly, a good-natured gleam in his eyes. Indignation and surprise caused the blond to huff and pull his arms back and fold them across his chest.

"You look like a mess," he countered, exasperation strong and apparent in his tone. Then, in a more gentle voice, he added, "I'm glad your fever finally broke."

Chris agreed and relaxed once more on the couch. The smell of soup made his stomach growl angrily, loud enough for Albert to hear. With a chuckle, the blond stood up and stretched, inquiring if he was hungry, to which Chris whole-heartedly nodded and made to get out of bed, only to be shoved back gently by the blond.

"No, you'll stay here. I'll get it," he ordered, giving the brunette his most severe look. It was ruined by the concern that still lingered in his eyes, but Chris still got the point.

"Fine by me," he muttered, reaching for the remote to turn the t.v. on. By the time Albert had returned, Chris had some animated Disney film playing- the title had escaped the blond. Handing the brunette his soup and a slice of toast, he settled himself comfortably at the other end of the couch, pulling his legs underneath him for a makeshift table. Chris glanced sideways at him, a frown plaguing his handsome face.

"It's difficult to eat with you staring at me like that," Albert muttered, keeping his eyes on his soup. He nearly dropped the hot liquid when Chris suddenly decided to lean against him, placing his head against the blond's.

"Thank you for taking care of me," he murmured, a blush tinting his cheeks. Trying to keep his own blush down, Albert turned his head and placed a kiss on the tip of his lovers nose.

"Of course, dear heart. Now please promise me that you'll take tomorrow off to recover," he demanded.

"But I-"

"Chris!"

"Fine! I promise...but I don't have to like it..." the brunette pouted for a couple of seconds before he took a bite of soup. Albert relaxed into the couch and sipped his own soup.

He'd never admit it, but he almost _enjoyed_ "mothering" Chris. He'd also never admit that he just wanted them to stay home together tomorrow and there really wasn't any reason Chris couldn't go back to work. He just wanted to spend the day with his lover.

He'd never admit it, but Chris knew anyways.


End file.
